


The Whitechapel Mistletoe Infestation

by Pers



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mistletoe, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pers/pseuds/Pers
Summary: Mansell hatches a plan to bring Kent and Chandler together.
Relationships: Joseph Chandler/Emerson Kent
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	The Whitechapel Mistletoe Infestation

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about six years ago.

“Deck the incident room with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la.“

Kent looked up from his computer and over to where Mansell stood on a ladder, hanging a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling. Mansell was wearing a Santa hat that had blinking lights on the brim, and he was singing on top of his voice. Unfortunately, he was also singing slightly off-key.

“'Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la la la la la.”

“Mansell, what are you doing?” Kent asked. Mansell stopped singing for a moment and stepped down from the ladder, shuffling over to Kent's desk with a grin.

“Don we now our gay apparel,” he sang, putting a pair of reindeer antlers on Kent's head. Kent scowled at him, removing the antlers and flinging them onto Mansell's desk. Mansell pulled up a chair to sit next to Kent.

“I'm helping you out, mate,” he said with a grin.

“How is your singing helping me out? Other than scaring away half the animal populace in the vicinity?”

“Take a look around you,” Mansell said, spreading his arms. “Notice anything?”

Kent glanced around the room. Mansell had obviously spent the whole morning putting up Christmas decorations. There were Christmas lights strung up on the whiteboard and around some of the desks, but even those and the sprigs of holly and mistletoe couldn't quite take away the gloomy atmosphere of the incident room.

Mansell heaved a sigh, apparently displeased with Kent's lack of reaction. “I put up mistletoe,” he said.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“_Lots_ of mistletoe.”

Kent glanced around again. It was true, there was rather a large amount of mistletoe. Mansell had put up sprigs of it over all of the doorways, even the one leading towards the toilets and the one to Chandler's office. But Mansell hadn't stopped there. There was also mistletoe hanging down from the ceiling at seemingly random intervals. The whole incident room looked like it had been infested with mistletoe.

“I think you went a bit overboard with the mistletoe, actually.”

“No, it's all part of my plan.” Mansell wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Kent knew he was going to regret it, but he had to ask anyway.

“What plan?”

Mansell put his arm around Kent's shoulders. “My plan to get you and the boss together. Just think about it, with that amount of mistletoe, it's only a matter of time before you both end up under the same one and you finally get to kiss him.”

Kent opened and closed his mouth a few times, lost for words. “I don't... That's not...”

Mansell rolled his eyes. “You're not fooling anyone, Kent. And I have to tell you, that crush of yours is painful to watch.”

“Just leave me alone!” Kent snapped, dislodging Mansell's arm from around his shoulders. Mansell held up his hands.

“All right! No need to get tetchy. At least my plan has a bigger chance of success than that weird 12 Days of Christmas wooing ritual you seem to have going on.”

Kent willed himself not to blush, and knew he was failing miserably. It had been careless of him to think that no one would notice what he had been doing.

Their boss had been serious and withdrawn ever since the disastrous conclusion of the Abrahamians case, hiding away in his office most of the time and frowning way too much. Kent had just wanted to do something nice for him, so one day when Chandler had left his office for a few minutes, Kent had sneaked in there and left a cup of tea on Chandler's desk. It hadn't exactly made Chandler smile when he found it, but at least his frown had lessened and Kent counted that as a success.

He'd continued leaving little things for Chandler every day – a fresh cup of tea now and then, or chocolate, some of the gingerbread his mother had made, and even a small jar of tiger balm when he'd noticed that Chandler's supply was running low.

“It's not a weird wooing ritual,” Kent told Mansell through gritted teeth.

“If you say so,” Mansell replied with a roll of his eyes. He got up and went back to his desk, humming 'Oh Christmas Tree'.

Kent sent another glare in his direction, then turned back to his computer. His eyes were drawn towards Chandler's office though. Chandler was sitting at his desk with a frown, looking down at a file in front of him. Apparently, not even Mansell's singing had disturbed him. Kent heaved a sigh and went back to work.

* * *

No one else seemed to object to Mansell's scheme. In fact, Kent caught Miles sending an approving nod into Mansell's direction. Ed took to spending more time upstairs in the incident room, most likely hoping to catch Megan under the mistletoe.

But the first to end up under the mistletoe together were actually Megan and Miles, both taking it with good humour. Kent wasn't so lucky, the person he ended up under the mistletoe with was Mansell. Kent wanted to turn away, but Mansell wouldn't hear of it.

“Pucker up, it's Christmas,” he said, grinning, and Kent grumblingly agreed. Mansell planted a big smack on Kent's lips, then laughed and said with a cheer,“I just realized... I've now kissed twins!”

Kent glared at him and didn't speak to him for the rest of the day. His sister Erica called him the next day, asking whether she should be jealous. He could practically hear her grin over the phone and vowed not to speak to her for at least a week.

The next person Kent ended up under the mistletoe with was Miles, but they just looked at each other, shook their heads, and went on their separate ways.

The team soon took to side-stepping the various sprigs of mistletoe, or breaking out into a little run to get out from under the mistletoe quickly. The only person who seemed completely oblivious to what was going on was Chandler. He just gave them strange looks whenever he noticed one of them zigzagging through the incident room, or when Miles suddenly jogged ahead of him when they both left Chandler's office. But if he found their behaviour strange, he didn't comment on it.

Mansell made it his mission to manoeuvre Kent to stand under the mistletoe whenever Chandler was in the vicinity. Chandler was still hiding away in his office most of the time, but one day he was standing in front of the whiteboard, looking at the case-notes pinned to it. He was standing directly under some mistletoe, and Mansell took his chance.

He tripped up Kent, who was just walking back towards his desk, sending him flying towards Chandler. As luck would have it, Chandler had taken a step to the side just a moment before, and instead of landing in his arms, Kent landed at his feet with a thud.

“Kent! Do be careful,” Chandler said in an exasperated voice.

Cheeks burning, Kent got up from the floor. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled, not daring to meet Chandler's eyes because he could already imagine the look of disappointment they held. “I must have stumbled.”

“Yes, well, be more careful in the future,” Chandler said, before returning to his office. Wincing, Kent limped to his desk. Mansell caught his eyes.

“Sorry, mate,” he said, “I was only trying to help.”

Kent glared at him. “I don't want your help,” he hissed, sitting down at his desk and once again ignoring Mansell for the rest of the day.

Still Mansell didn't give up. One day, when Kent was standing by his desk and Chandler happened to walk past, Mansell called out to him, “Hey boss, would you like some gingerbread?”

He held out a biscuit tin to him, shaking it alluringly and obviously trying to get him to stand next to Kent. Chandler gave him a sceptical look, not moving any closer.

“Erica's mum made it,” Mansell added. “It's very good!”

Chandler remained still, a puzzled look on his face. Then he shook his head. “No, thank you,” he declined politely and walked on. Mansell put down the biscuit tin with a sigh.

“It's not as easy as I thought, getting you two to stand under the mistletoe,” he said, giving Kent a pitying look. “But don't worry, sooner or later it just _has_ to work.”

“Please, just... leave it,” Kent said. “You're only making him uncomfortable.” Feeling dejected, he went back to his own desk. Mansell kept sending pitying glances his way, which he kept ignoring, and eventually Mansell stopped. He also stopped trying to get him and Chandler to stand together under the mistletoe.

* * *

Life went on, and Kent almost forgot about the mistletoe, until one day he entered the incident room just as Chandler was exiting the bathroom, and their paths happened to cross. Kent only realized what had happened when a hushed silence fell over the incident room and everyone seemed to be staring at him and Chandler. He glanced upwards and sure enough, there was mistletoe.

His throat suddenly gone dry, his heart hammering in his chest, Kent stood rooted to the spot, staring at Chandler with wide eyes.

“Kent, what's wrong?” Chandler asked, concern lacing his voice. Kent didn't reply because all he could have managed at that point was a squeak. Chandler continued to look at him for a few more seconds, then glanced around at the rest of the team with a frown. “What's going on? Miles?”

Miles cleared his throat. “It appears you two have been caught under the mistletoe.”

“What?”

Miles pointed towards the ceiling, and Chandler looked up, noticing the sprig of mistletoe above his head for the first time. Then he looked back at Kent, who was still trying his best to keep from hyperventilating and only just succeeding. Chandler looked back up at the mistletoe, and the frown on his face turned into a scowl.

He reached up and plucked the mistletoe from the ceiling, throwing it into the nearest bin. He looked around, his eyes taking in all the mistletoe in the incident room, and he glared at the people surrounding him and Kent.

“This is an incident room and not a... a Christmas market!” he shouted. “I have told you before, this place has to look professional! Who is responsible for this?”

Mansell owned up and Chandler focused the glare on him. “Get rid of it! All of it!“ he shouted, and without so much as another glance at Kent he strode into his office, slamming the door shut behind him.

No one spoke or moved for a few moments, until Miles clapped his hands. “Well, get to it,” he said, and everyone burst into activity, taking down the mistletoe.

Feeling weak in the knees, Kent took a few wobbling steps towards his desk and sank down in his chair, looking down and trying to get his breathing back under control. He only looked up when someone put a hand on his shoulder. It was Mansell.

“I'm sorry,” Mansell apologized. “I was so certain it was going to work.”

“Not your fault,” Kent croaked, because really, it wasn't Mansell's fault that Chandler wasn't interested in Kent. Mansell nodded and patted his shoulder, before going back to taking down the Christmas decorations.

Kent continued to stare down at his desk until his breathing had calmed down and his hands had stopped shaking. Then he looked towards Chandler's office, where Chandler was just applying some tiger balm to his temples. He looked tense, and not for the first time Kent wished he could massage that tension out of Chandler's shoulders. He quickly clamped down on that thought because he knew it was never going to happen anyway. Best not to think about it.

But at the next opportunity that presented itself, Kent slid into Chandler's empty office and left a steaming cup of tea on his desk. After all, just because Chandler wasn't interested in him didn't mean that Kent had to stop doing nice things for him.

* * *

The mood was subdued over the next few days, and no one dared to mention the word 'mistletoe', or at least not in Kent's presence. Nor did anyone try to organize their annual office Christmas party.

On Friday before Christmas, Chandler and Miles spent the late afternoon arguing in Chandler's office. Their voices weren't loud enough to hear what was going on, but Kent could tell by the amount of tiger balm Chandler was using that it had to be something serious.

Finally, both Miles and Chandler came out of Chandler's office, Miles with a triumphant look on his face and Chandler looking like he was going to have his toenails removed.

“Listen up, everyone,” Miles announced. “We're all going down to the pub to have a little Christmas celebration.”

A cheer went through the office.

“And on top of that,” Miles continued, “his Nibs here has kindly agreed to be our designated driver.”

An even louder cheer went through the office, and Miles grinned while Chandler looked around with a forced smile on his face. Everyone scrambled for their coats and bags, and soon they were standing outside in the parking lot.

As soon as Chandler had unlocked his car, there was a rush for the best seats. Miles insisted on getting the passenger seat, glaring at Mansell who had already sat down in it, until Mansell got into the back of the car instead.

“Move over, Kent,” Mansell said, shoving at Kent to make him move towards the middle of the back seat.

“Ow!” Kent protested as Mansell squeezed in beside him. “Why do I have to sit in the middle?”

“Because you're the youngest,” Riley said, squeezing in one Kent's other side.

“That's not fair,” Kent protested again. “Ow! Mansell, keep your elbows to yourself!”

“You're just too fat,” Mansell told him, trying to find room for his legs and jostling Chandler's seat in the process. Chandler reached into his pocket for the tiger balm.

Miles turned in his seat. “Will you lot shut up!” Everyone fell silent, and Miles turned towards the front again. ”Let's go,” he told Chandler, but Chandler didn't start the car yet.

“Not until everyone's seatbelts are fastened.”

Miles heaved a sigh, then turned towards the back again. “You heard the boss. Buckle up.”

There was more grumbling and jostling in the back seat, but finally all the seatbelts were fastened, and Chandler started the car and started to slowly drive off the parking lot.

"Hang on," Riley said. "Where's Ed?"

Chandler braked. They all turned to look back. Ed was still standing next to the parking space that Chandler's car had occupied, and he was now hopping up and down, waving at them frantically.

The team looked at each other. No one spoke a word, until Miles asked, "Do you think he'll fit in the boot?"

“Miles,” Chandler said in that suffering tone of voice, and Miles held up his hands in defence.

“Well, I'm not going to get out and walk. If you want to take him, someone else has to make room for him.”

Chandler closed his eyes, hands reaching up to massage his temples, and Kent could tell that he was already regretting agreeing to their trip to the pub. Miles turned in his seat again. “All right. Kent, get out.”

Kent's mouth fell open. “What? Why me?”

“You can take your scooter.”

“Why can't one of you take your car?” Kent asked, looking at Mansell and Riley in turn. But Riley just shook her head and Mansell didn't seem taken by the idea either.

“You can't hold your liquor anyway,” he told Kent with a grin. Kent glared at him, opening his mouth for a retort, but Miles interrupted him.

“Now, Kent. We don't have all night.”

“Fine,” Kent hissed through gritted teeth, and undid his seatbelt. He shoved at Mansell with more force than necessary to make him get out of the car as well so that Kent wouldn't have to climb over him. Mansell rolled his eyes and complied, not quite so accidentally jabbing Kent in the ribs with his elbow as he did so.

When he had got out of the car, Kent caught Chandler's eyes in the wing mirror. Chandler didn't look happy with the whole situation either, but then Mansell jostled his seat again as Ed was getting into the car as well. Kent turned away and stomped back into the building to get his helmet.

* * *

By the time Kent reached the pub, he felt cold and grumpy. His hands were so numb from the cold, he could hardly hold on to his helmet. The pub was crowded, apparently many other people were having an early Christmas celebration with their friends and colleagues. It took Kent a while to find his colleagues, but at last he spotted them at a table tucked away in one of the corners.

“You made it,” Riley greeted him cheerfully, to which Mansell added with a laugh, “Took you long enough. You can buy the next round!”

Riley joined in his laughter, Ed looking pleased as well, and Kent's mood darkened even further. Sometimes he really hated his colleagues. Scowling, Kent put his helmet down on the table and turned to make his way to the bar.

“Nonsense,” Chandler said at that moment, getting up from the table. He motioned towards the seat he had been occupying. “Sit down, Kent. I'll get the drinks. Miles, you can help me carry.”

“Right,” Miles said with a sigh, getting up as well.

Grateful, Kent slid into the booth and started to peel the gloves off his numb fingers before divesting himself off his coat as well. Miles and Chandler soon returned with the drinks, and Kent looked up in surprise when Chandler set down a cup of tea in front of him.

“Something to warm you up,” Chandler explained, giving Kent a slight smile. “Can you move over a bit?”

Kent automatically scooted to the side and before he realized what was happening, Chandler had sat down beside him in the booth.

“Well,” Miles said, raising his glass of beer, “here's to Christmas.”

“And God bless us, every one!” Ed added cheerfully. Miles turned to stare at him. “It seemed appropriate,” Ed said with a shrug.

“As I was saying...” Miles raised his glass again. “To Christmas!”

“To Christmas!” Everyone raised their own glasses of beer, or in Chandler's and Kent's case, a glass of sparkling water and a teacup.

Riley and Ed started talking about their favourite adaptation of A Christmas Carol, but Kent was only half listening as he wrapped his hands around his cup, enjoying the warmth seeping into his hands. He also enjoyed sitting next to Chandler, who was just close enough for Kent to feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Feeling warmer now?” Chandler asked, startling Kent out of his thoughts. It was almost as if Chandler had guessed his thoughts, and Kent tried not to blush.

“Yes. Thank you,” he said instead, smiling at his boss. Chandler nodded.

“Good. Wouldn't want you to get sick so shortly before Christmas.”

“Oi, Kent!” Mansell called down the table before Kent had a chance to reply to Chandler. “What's your favourite version of A Christmas Carol?”

“Uh, I don't know. Probably the Muppets Christmas Carol.”

Mansell laughed. “Figures. You're such a muppet yourself, Kent!”

“Very funny,” Kent said, pulling a face that said it really wasn't.

Mansell laughed again, until Riley jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Don't insult the muppets. I love the Muppets Christmas Carol!”

“Well, you're all muppets then,” Mansell said. “What about you, Skip? What's your favourite version? I bet it's a black and white one from the 30s!”

“Oi! I'm not that old!” Miles protested, flinging his beer mat at Mansell and hitting him on the head. Riley cheered while Miles and Ed laughed, and Kent stole a glance at Chandler, expecting him to take out his tiger balm. But their boss was just looking on with a slightly bemused expression on his face.

As the evening progressed, everyone except Chandler and Kent drank more beer, and their discussions about various Christmas-related topics took a different turn. Ed had apparently researched old murder cases taking place around Christmas, and now told the team about the weirdest ones.

Kent joined the conversation from time to time, but for the most part he was content to just sit there and listen to his colleagues talk. He and Chandler had somehow ended up sitting even closer together, their thighs sometimes brushing together, and their shoulders almost touching. Chandler didn't seem to mind though, and as long as there was no indication that he was uncomfortable, Kent stayed right where he was. Chandler didn't talk much either, but he looked much more relaxed than he had in the previous weeks and months.

“Right,” Riley said after she had finished her beer, “I'm going to dance now. Anyone want to join me?”

“I certainly wouldn't mind taking a little turn around the dance floor,” Ed said, getting up as well.

“Are you coming with us, Skip?” Riley asked.

“Nah, not tonight,” Miles replied.

“What about you?” Riley asked, looking at Chandler and Kent. Chandler declined politely, and Riley didn't even wait for Kent's reply. She and Ed made their way towards the back of the pub that was being used as a dance floor.

Miles peered down into his empty beer glass. “I'm going to get another drink,” he announced, getting up as well. Mansell had left their table a few minutes earlier to go to the toilet, so that Kent and Chandler were now left alone. Kent suspected his colleagues had contrived to do just that, but he didn't really care because Chandler was looking at him just then.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked Kent.

“Yes. What about you, sir?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Chandler gave a soft laugh. “I'm glad Miles talked me into it, actually. Just don't tell him I said that.”

He looked at Kent, and Kent found himself grinning back at him. “Don't worry, sir. No one will find out from me.”

“Good,” Chandler said, taking a sip of his water.

“Joe!” Ed came rushing back to the table, waving something in his hand. “Look what I got for you!”

He stopped in front of the table and put a headband with antlers on Chandler's head. They were similar to the antlers Mansell had tried to put on Kent's head earlier that month, except that these had little bells attached to them.

“Now you're all set for Christmas,” Ed said cheerfully. Chandler looked anything but cheerful, and Kent looked down quickly to hide his grin. “Well, I just thought they might put you into the festive spirit,” Ed explained, sounding a bit crestfallen.

“Thank you, Ed. I appreciate it,” Chandler told him politely, reaching up to adjust the antlers.

“Right then,” Ed said. “I'm going back on the dance floor. Join us when you feel like it.”

As soon as Buchan had left, Chandler removed the antlers, throwing them down on the table, and reaching up with his hands to smooth his hair. He caught Kent grinning and offered him the antlers. “Do you want them?”

“No, thanks. But Mansell might like them. Or you could give them to Miles as a Christmas present.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Chandler's mouth. “Somehow I have the feeling he wouldn't appreciate it.”

“No, probably not,” Kent admitted, but having to grin at the mental image all the same. He and Chandler exchanged a smile, and not for the first time that evening did Kent think how much younger Chandler looked when his face wasn't creased up in a frown.

“Kent,” Chandler said, voice suddenly serious, and Kent realized he'd probably been staring at his boss for too long. He quickly looked down and took a sip of his lemonade.

“Kent,” Chandler began again, “I've been meaning to thank you.”

Kent's head snapped up and he looked at Chandler in surprise. “Thank me? What for?”

“The tea, the chocolates, the tiger balm... That was you, wasn't it?”

Kent nodded, unsure what to say. He had sometimes imagined what would happen if Chandler found out it was him who'd been leaving all those little presents, but he had never really thought it was actually going to happen.

“Well, thank you,” Chandler said. “I know I haven't been the easiest person to be around these past few weeks. But your little presents always brightened up my day a little.”

Kent ducked his head, feeling himself blush again. “It was nothing, sir.”

“No, it was really... lovely. So thank you,” Chandler said softly. He smiled at Kent, and somehow the way he was smiling was better than any of the scenarios Kent had imagined.

“You're welcome,” Kent said, giving Chandler a shy smile in return. “How did you figure out it was me?”

“It was actually something Mansell said.”

“Mansell told you?!”

Chandler chuckled. “No, but he offered me some of the gingerbread Erica's mother had made. The same kind of gingerbread that someone had left on my desk earlier that week. Then I remembered Erica is your sister, so it was also your mother's gingerbread.”

“It could have been Mansell who left the gingerbread,” Kent pointed out. Chandler regarded him for a moment before he replied.

“Yes, but it seemed more like something that you would do.”

Kent shrugged, unsure what to say. Chandler was still gazing at him intently, and after all those weeks and months of Chandler more or less ignoring him, it was all a bit too much for Kent. He looked away, letting his eyes wander around the pub. Neither one of their colleagues was anywhere to be seen, but he thought he heard Mansell laugh somewhere in the crowd.

Now that he was paying closer attention to his surroundings, Kent realized that he and Chandler had been sitting under a sprig of mistletoe all evening without realizing it. He quickly looked down, not wanting to spook Chandler, but Chandler had followed his gaze and noticed the mistletoe as well. Kent expected him to get up and move away, but instead Chandler gave a slight chuckle.

“We seem to have a habit of ending up under these things,” he said, giving Kent a wry smile.

“Don't worry, sir, we can just ignore it.”

Chandler cleared his throat. “What if I don't want to ignore it?” he asked softly.

Kent almost didn't believe his ears. “I... I...” He swallowed, trying to calm himself. “I think that would be all right. Perfectly all right.”

Suddenly Chandler was leaning closer, his eyes never leaving Kent's, and he stopped only inches away from Kent's face. He kept looking at Kent, even as Kent leaned forward, closing the distance. Chandler's lips brushed against his own, softly at first, then with a little more pressure, and Kent closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling and not wanting the kiss to end.

Their kiss probably only lasted a few seconds, but Kent felt dizzy from it all the same. He grinned at Chandler, receiving a warm smile in return. Kent wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Chandler, to hold him close and kiss him again.

“You look happy,” Chandler remarked, still smiling.

“I am happy.”

“Good. I wasn't sure. The other day, you looked like you were about to faint. I thought perhaps you felt like you had to kiss me even though you didn't want to.”

Kent grimaced, remembering the moment only too well. He must have looked quite a fright. “Can we please not talk about that day ever again?”

“Of course,” Chandler said quickly. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it's just... it was horrible.” Kent grimaced again. “I was so nervous, and everyone was watching...” He trailed off, remembering that they were in a pub and anybody might have seen them kiss.

He blushed when he realized that Miles could probably tell what had happened just by taking one look at them. The others would probably realize as well (after all, hadn't they deliberately left Chandler and Kent to sit under the mistletoe?) and they wouldn't let Kent hear the end of it.

“Are you all right?” Chandler asked, sounding worried.

“Yes, everything's fine,” Kent told him, reaching for Chandler's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. He smiled when Chandler caught his hand and held on to it. So what if Miles and the others realized? There was nothing to be ashamed of.


End file.
